The sun had softened by the time lunch faded into memory. A golden hush filtered through the castle windows, spilling into the sitting room where Elysia found herself curled on a plush velvet sofa beside her father.
Kaelith, their whirlwind of a daughter, was darting around the thick rug, clutching a wooden dragon in one fist and a handful of ribbons in the other.
There was something sweet about the quiet, something both rare and precious. It had been so long since she'd been alone with her father just the two of them, and, of course, Kaelith, whose concept of "alone time" was to make as much noise as possible.
Thalor sat back, watching Kaelith with the indulgent amusement of a man who had survived many years of parenthood.
His hair was a little grayer than Elysia remembered, and his eyes always so kind, so full of stories were edged now with gentle lines.
But he seemed younger, too, buoyed by joy at being surrounded by family.
